Present Tense
by meggannn
Summary: She can't think about this too hard, not without driving herself crazy. Let time do its job, future-Simon had said. I love you, always. Things will be okay. Let it be.


**Title: **Present Tense  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** His hands are a bit different.  
**Genre:** Romance/Drama  
**Word Count:** 749

**Notes:** adriaticjellyfishsting on Tumblr requested some Simon/Alisha fic ("introspective Alisha, seeing present!Simon after future!Simon's death"). Also, I stole a Cowboy Bebop quote. Don't sue?

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Present Tense_  
_

His hands are a bit different.

Alisha is familiar with his scars and he doesn't even know it. She knows, remembers, loves how he could move his body in ways even she was unfamiliar with (_though I have to learn eventually, I'll teach him that, I'll teach him everything_). They could tease and explore and chart her body with his palms, and she knows that it's unfair to assume that Simon could do the same now,

(_The now-Simon, not past-Simon that was once future-Simon, or was it always future-Simon? Will it always be future-Simon? Will I always be comparing the two?_)

It's all too goddamn confusing – her head reels if she thinks about it too much, really, so she doesn't. She should just leave it be. Simon's dead. The man she loves is dead. But he's still alive, _so_ alive, especially when his mouth is on her bare breast and she moans, loud and slow, and he does that _thing_ with his hips…

It isn't that she doesn't love the now-Simon. Is it weird or wrong to love both? Simon is Simon and sometimes she can catch the lines starting to blur. Occasionally she'll catch glimpses of his future self in who he is now, the strong fighter, the fearless man she has helped to shape, and a part of her burns for him, even if she isn't sure which him she wants the most.

Maybe it is her loving him that turns him into who the man that had saved her, had saved all of them, had made her fall in love with him in the first place. It doesn't really make sense when she tries to work it out in her head. But he had told her not to think about it, that thinking about it would just drive her crazy, that she should just enjoy it and let life do with her what she will. Alisha's always gone after what she wants with her bare hands, smirking and swaying and confident, but he had told her to slow down, let it be, let it be. She can't think about this too hard, not without driving herself crazy. Let time do its job, future-Simon had said. I love you, always. Things will be okay. Let it be.

But look where that had gotten him.

And yet, his hands are different. The ones she has known and loved were strong, bold, sure, comfortable – but Simon's hands are so tender and cautious and apologetic, not quite used to this, not quite used to her. That's all right, though. Maybe he had been right, but she doesn't know, doesn't know because he's dead and she can't ask, but no that's not right because he's alive _right next to her _but he's not _him_, but Simon is Simon is Simon and Alisha is Alisha is Alisha. He is who he is and she is who she is. The past is the past and the future is the future. The present is the present and _I am who I am and you are who you are. That's all there is to it. But I don't know who you are, I don't know who to be, I don't know who I need to be. Is this the you that will fall in love with the present me, or is it just that your future self is the only you that could ever love the present me? Do we need to wait it out, find a window of time where it all clicks just right and you fall for me in return? I love your future but the future isn't just the future anymore, it's the present and the past and everything now because you're Simon. You're future-Simon and past-Simon and present-Simon and I love every one._

_Does it really matter? Or do we just think that it does?_

And still, throughout it all, she loves him. She doesn't even question it, not once, not anymore. It takes a while to get that it's not just the Simon that she used to know, but the Simon that is standing in front of her, the one that listens to The Fratellis and wordlessly offers her an earbud to join him, the one that talks about Battlestar Galactica and then apologies when he realizes that she doesn't understand a word he's saying, but maybe that's all right. All he's trying to be is Simon, for her.

The least she can do is be Alisha, for him.


End file.
